


Drunk in Love

by FloreatCastellum



Series: Slice of Life One-Shots [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Binge Drinking, Drinking, Drinking Games, Excessive Drinking, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, drunk!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-01-24 05:06:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18564532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloreatCastellum/pseuds/FloreatCastellum
Summary: Harry should have known better than to let George Weasley get him drunk.





	1. Chapter 1

They had targeted him from the start, which was rather unfair, because it was him that the press were going to be interested in getting pictures of chucking up in an alleyway. Perhaps that was why - it was always funny to see him groan over the morning paper, and if he had a hangover too that would be even funnier. 

‘What is it?’ Harry asked loudly, as George pressed a glass into his hand. 

‘You’ll like it,’ George shouted back. The music was pounding - for Halloween, Leaky Cauldron had organised a live band, and the place was packed with people in all manner of costumes. The boys had all gone as Quidditch balls - Harry had been painted gold, Ron red, and George and Neville were both in black suits - with Lee dressed as a referee. 

He tried some of the drink and scowled. ‘This is disgusting! What is it?’ 

‘Weeeeee… Like to drink with Harry, ‘cos Harry is our mate!’ sang Ron. Neville, George and Lee all grinned, and joined in. Too drunk to stand up to peer pressure, Harry obeyed. 

‘And when we drink with Harry, he gets it down in eight! Seven! Six!’ Now complete strangers were joining in the countdown as Harry gulped down the bitter drink. He finished it on two, and an all mighty cheer rose. 

‘Hey!’ came a shout from a bleary eyes wizard, squinting at Harry as he put his glass down with a shudder. ‘Are you-?’

‘No I just look like him,’ slurred Harry. 

‘Yeah he gets it all the time,’ said Ron, sniggering. 

Before the wizard could argue (or get closer to check his suspicions) the boys were pushing through the crowd, hands on each other’s shoulders like a train so as not to lose each other, to hide among a new corner of the crowd. 

‘Lee,’ shouted George, leaning heavily on his friends. ‘Lee, what were those shots? What were those shots, Lee? From the- the thing.’ 

‘Basilisk eyes?’ 

‘Yeah - hey! Ron! Ron! Let’s get Harry to drink basilisk eyes-’

‘Why are you doing this to me?’ Harry shouted, as little glasses of some kind of neon green and blue monstrosity were lined up in front of them. 

‘It’s because you’re shagging their sister!’ Lee yelled back, and he promptly got punched on the arm by Ron. 

‘He’s not, are you, Harry? You’re just holding hands, aren’t you?’ 

‘Yeah, we hold hands,’ said Harry. He thought lying by omission was probably the safest option. 

They took the shots - Harry was sure he seemed to have at least four while everyone else only seemed to have two or three. They caused a magical effect of making everything appear to be pulsing, like the surface of water. 

This did not help Harry, who was already feeling unstable, and he stumbled backwards into a table, the empty glasses clattering to the floor. 

‘Wahey!’ came the cry of at least a dozen people. 

‘Hey, is that-?’

‘No, I just look like him!’ said Harry, as Neville heaved him up off the floor. Neville was laughing at him, but helpfully slung his arm over his shoulder. 

‘Look at the state of you,’ he said affectionately. ‘It’s always the quiet ones.’ 

‘Says you,’ Harry replied, who had been shocked to find that Neville was able to open a beer bottle with just his teeth. ‘No, George - no more, really-’

‘Harry,’ George said seriously, grabbing the sides of his face. ‘Are you family or not?’ 

‘I like to think so,’ Harry said. 

‘Then I am allowed to bully you, and force you to do things you don’t want. That includes drinking another pixie vodka.’ 

‘OK,’ said Harry, who was well past working out whether it was a good idea or not. ‘For family.’ 

‘That’s my man,’ said George, slapping his back. 

They continued to drink, and Harry was pleased when Ron fell over because that meant they could tease him for a while. ‘I’m going to tell Hermione on you,’ Harry told him. ‘I’m going to write to her and tell her that you’ve been falling over in the pub.’ 

‘Yeah? Well I’m going to tell my mum on you.’ 

‘Noooo,’ Harry moaned rolling his head back. ‘No, she likes me, don’t ruin it.’ 

‘Oh my god!’ There was a squeal, and a blonde witch with smeared eyeliner, fell onto them, gripping Harry’s shoulder. ‘I know you! You’re-’

‘No I just look like him,’ said Harry immediately. 

‘And he holds hands with my sister anyway,’ said Ron, narrowing his eyes at her. 

‘No, I’m sure,’ said the witch. ‘Here, let me see if you’ve got the-’ She raised her hand to push back the hair from Harry’s forehead.

Lee seized Harry, and yanked him away before she could touch him, and then they were pushing through the crowd again. ‘Bloody hell,’ he yelled in Harry’s ear. ‘It’s a right pain in the arse going anywhere with you.’ 

‘Sorry,’ Harry slurred. ‘In my defence, I did suggest Muggle London.’ 

They found another table, and Neville slapped down a galleon into the centre. It vanished, and in its place appeared yet more drinks. 

‘A drinking game!’ insisted Lee. ‘Never have I ever.’ He had a rather evil grin - Harry got the impression he was looking forward to creating awkward moments between himself and his girlfriend’s brothers. 

‘No,’ said Harry firmly, at the same time everyone else said yes. 

‘Never have I ever…’ George’s eyes narrowed on Harry. ‘Survived a deadly curse.’ 

‘Oh, fuck off!’ 

‘Drink!’ The others bellowed at him, so he did. 

‘No, you have to drink twice,’ said George. 

‘Seriously fuck off!’ But he did. ‘Never have I ever drank a love potion,’ said Harry, shooting a look at Ron. 

‘Didn’t drink it,’ said Ron smugly, after a suppressed hiccup. ‘Ate it. They were spiked chocolates, weren’t they? So fuck you, you drink.’ 

Neville, who was supposed to be on his side, then betrayed Harry. ‘Never have I ever kissed a best friend’s little sister.’ 

‘Fuck off!’ 

‘Look, this is just the price you pay, Harry,’ said George.

‘Never have I ever battled a dragon,’ said Lee. 

‘Fuck off!’ 

‘I think I can actually join in with this one,’ said Ron. ‘Can I join in with this one? I rode it, that counts, right?’ 

‘Yeah that counts,’ said Harry fervently. He glared at George. ‘Never have I ever punched Malfoy.’ Then he drank just as George did, sending him daggers over the rim of his glass. Even if he had to drink too, it was worth it. 

George stayed collected, calm, smiling slightly as he watched Harry sway on the spot. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked. 

‘Yes,’ Harry insisted. 

‘You look like you’re going to fall over.’ 

‘No,’ he said forcefully. ‘No, I have perfect balance.’ 

‘Oh do you?’ 

‘Yeah. S’better than any of you.’ 

‘Prove it,’ said Lee. 

‘All right, all right,’ said Harry, and then they yelled their laughter as Harry clambered up onto the table. 

‘Oi!’ shouted one of the bouncers, as people in the pub turned and cheered. 

Harry stood up as straight on the the table as he could manage, ignoring his friends howling with laughter, and raised his hands above his head. ‘See! See how well I can balance! Screw you, George, you owe me a galleon!’ 

‘Hey, I never made any bet!’

‘Get down!’ roared the bouncer, trying to fight his way through the crowd. 

‘That’s Harry Potter!’ yelled someone. 

‘No!’ said Harry, pointing at them dramatically. ‘No, I just look like him!’ 

But people had clocked on, they were grinning excitedly, getting their friends attention, laughing - some were actively getting in the way of the advancing bouncer, who glared up at Harry and said, ‘I don’t care if you’re Albus fucking Dumbledore, get down!’ 

There was a collective boo from the audience at this, but it didn’t matter because Harry had tried to step to the next table to get away, wobbled, lost his balance, and fell with a painful clatter. The room cheered - even the band had stopped their song to laugh. 

‘We love a chosen one who chooses to party,’ the lead singer quipped into their microphone, and the room cheered again.

‘Harry!’ yelped Ron, though he, too, was laughing.

‘I’m OK!’ shouted Harry, pulling himself up. ‘Oh, fuck!’ 

In his drunken haze, he vaguely realised his ankle wasn’t quite right. George heaved him up, practically crying with laughter. 

‘C’MERE!’ the bouncer was yelling. 

‘Quick escape?’ George asked him. 

‘He’s just jealous,’ Harry said, his words slurring together so loudly that people were squinting as they tried to understand him. ‘He’s just jealous he can’t stand on a table.’ 

‘Fuck’s sake,’ George laughed, trying to lead him out as Harry hopped, leaning heavily on his shoulder. ‘Why are you like this?’ 

‘Childhood trauma,’ said Harry, and the people nearby were laughing, but raising their hands to their mouths in shock, as if not sure if he was joking or not. ‘Also you bullying me and making me drink.’ 

‘Grab his other arm!’ George shouted at Ron, because the bouncer really was very close now, despite the crowd doing their best to get in his way. 

Ron did so, and they carried Harry out, stumbling themselves, barely able to stand straight from the laughter. 

‘Stop wriggling, Harry!’ 

‘You’re jealous too! You’re jealous you don’t have a broken ankle!’ Harry yelled, trying his best to hop but really just pulling Ron and George down. 

‘Harry Potter!’ someone yelled. 

‘No he just looks like him!’ Ron and George said together. 

‘They’re lying!’ shouted Harry. ‘I don’t look like him at all! I’m much more attractive!’ 

They carried him out of the pub, and found themselves on the Charing Cross road, so surrounded by muggles in standard Halloween get up that they didn’t look a bit out of place.

‘Oh no,’ said Harry quietly, and then he vomited. ‘This is your fault,’ he said unhappily to George. 

‘Well, you shouldn’t be shagging my sister.’ 

‘They hold hands!’ insisted Ron. Neville and Lee smirked at each other. They dragged Harry to an alleyway by Charing Cross station, so that Harry got to vomit in sight of Nelson’s Column. 

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ said George, looking over to Trafalgar Square as Harry retched behind him. 

‘I reckon I could climb one of them lions,’ said Lee, swaying slightly.

‘What would you do once you were up there, though?’ asked Neville.

‘I don’t know. It’s not about that though, is it, it’s just proving you can.’

‘Harry… Harry…’ They turned to see Ron crouching by Harry, who was now sitting against the wall (thankfully away from where he had vomited), his head lolling while Ron tried to to hold it up. Harry was giggling. 

Ron glared up at George. ‘Mum is going to kill us if we bring him home like this. Maybe we should go back to our flat instead-’ 

‘It’s not our fault, we didn’t pour the drinks down his throat.’ 

‘Ron,’ Harry was whispering loudly. ‘Ron.’ 

‘Come on, you must have some sobering up product in development or something-’

‘How dare you, that goes against everything Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes stands for,’ slurred George. ‘No, in fact, you know what, Ron, I would even go as far as to say it goes against everything this country stands for!’

‘Ron,’ Harry shout-whispered. ‘I swear, mate, we just hold hands.’ 

‘Don’t lie to me,’ muttered Ron. ‘When I got back from Australia I found a bra in my room, and it’s definitely not Hermione’s.’ 

Harry snorted. ‘Could be mine, you don’t know.’ 

A sudden flash made them all turn - someone had taken a photo of them, and was now scurrying back up Charing Cross road. 

‘Oh, fucking hell,’ said George. ‘Now we’re really in trouble, I think I know that guy, he’s from the Prophet.’ 

‘I’ll chase after him,’ said Lee, but he made it less than four feet before stumbling sideways and and crashing into some bins. 

‘Merlin’s ballsack,’ said Ron. ‘Time to get the bus, I think.’ While Neville and George picked up Lee, Ron slung one of Harry’s arms around his shoulder, and heaved him up. 

‘It’s not really my bra,’ said Harry. 

‘Yeah, I gathered.’ 

‘You angry?’ 

Ron swore as Harry slumped so much he started being pulled sideways. ‘No, I’m not angry, I just don’t want to hear about it or find my sister’s underwear lying around.’ 

‘You don’t understand,’ said Harry. ‘I really love her.’ 

‘Oh, bloody hell,’ said George, exchanging a glance with Ron. 

‘I do!’ insisted Harry, raising his head with what seemed like a considerable effort. ‘And I love you guys too. Not in the same way-’ 

Ron laughed in a sort of despairing way, and stuck his wand arm out. ‘We love you too, mate. I hope they let us on the bus.’

‘But Ginny I love most of all,’ Harry continued, completely unaware. ‘I miss her so much - I wish- I wish I could visit her in Hogwarts.’ 

George was looking at him oddly. ‘Do you? Really?’

‘Yeah, but McGonagall said it s’not allowed…’ 

‘No, not that-’ said George. 

There was a loud bang, and the vivid purple Knight Bus appeared suddenly in front of them. ‘Right everyone, especially Harry,’ growled Ron. ‘Look sober.’ 

They all tried to stand up straight, even Harry who had to limp forward on his injured ankle, all of them adopting expressions you would expect to see at a dull business meeting or a funeral. 

‘Good evening and welcome to the Knight Bus-’ 

‘We know the drill,’ said Lee, pulling out money for the fair. 

‘You’re not Stan,’ Harry accused the woman-conductor. 

‘Ignore him,’ said Neville quickly, throwing an apologetic look at the confused looking woman. 

‘Are you all drunk?’ she asked them, narrowing her eyes. 

‘No, not at all.’ 

‘I assure you, we’re completely sober-’

‘We won’t be any trouble.’

‘Where’s Stan?’

‘He has memory problems,’ Neville blurted out, pushing Harry forwards, who yelped a little as he hobbled to one of the beds. 

‘I don’t mind if you’re all drunk, like,’ said the woman. ‘It’s what we’re here for, pet, don’t want any of you apparating like this. But if you cause any bother, we’ll leave you at Lindisfarne, that’s a promise. Eeh,’ she added suddenly, nodding at Harry. ‘Is that…?’

‘No, he just looks like him,’ they said in unison. A woman on the next bed snapped round to stare at them. 

‘Are we still going to risk going to mum’s?’ asked Ron. ‘Maybe we should just go back to ours-’

‘No,’ said George firmly. ‘We will need that fry up, and it’s worth listening to mum yell about how we made ourselves very vulnerable.’ 

Ron shrugged his agreement, and soon they were pelting back to the Burrow. Harry had lounged on the bed, examining his now very swollen ankle, unaware that a stranger on the next bed was still staring at them intently. 

‘Oi,’ said George. ‘Did you mean it?’ 

‘What?’

‘That you’re in love with our sister.’ 

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Harry, a sappy grin spreading across his face. ‘She’s the most wonderful, most beautiful, most cleverest-’

‘Merlin, all right, I get the picture.’ 

‘But it’s actual love, is it?’ said Ron. ‘You’re not just taking her bra off in my childhood bedroom?’ 

‘Sometimes in hers,’ said Harry. ‘But yeah, she told me she loved me and I told her back-’

‘When?’

‘Months ago.’ He squinted, and placed a hand on his stomach as the bus gave a sudden lurch. ‘Ugh… Yeah months ago, when I told her she was the last thing I thought of when I went to die.’ 

They stared at him.

‘Blimey,’ said Neville. ‘That’s… Serious stuff.’ 

Harry nodded. ‘Yeah… I’d… I’d do anything for her. She’s the- the best thing that…’ His head lolled back, and his eyes drooped closed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When he woke, he thought he might be on a ship. The bed he was on seemed to be moving, but as he opened his eyes, he recognised the orange walls of Ron’s old bedroom, and realised that the spinning sensation was entirely in his own head. 

He wanted to groan but he thought it might make him throw up, so he just lay there in a stupor, head pounding, mouth and eyes feeling as dry as a desert, his skin weirdly hot and clammy. 

He could smell bacon, and it at once seemed delicious and revolting. Did he have the strength to roll over? He thought about trying. No. 

Except he was bursting for the loo, so, somehow, on trembling arms he pushed himself up and rolled clumsily out of bed, bracing himself against the wall. He thought his head might fall off. 

He went to the bathroom, weaving his way down the corridor and gripping hold of the stair bannisters for dear life, feeling extremely sorry for himself. Even without his glasses, in the bathroom he caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror and saw deathly pale skin. Someone had put him into pyjamas too, he realised. He brushed his teeth, desperate to get some of the weird, stale taste out of his mouth, gripping the cool edge of the sink to stop himself falling over.

His stomach was howling for food, and as he couldn’t face climbing back up the stairs for his glasses, he eased himself down towards the kitchen half blind. 

There was an eruption of cheers and laughter as he entered, the noise of it made him jerk his head back and cringe. 

‘Here he is!’

‘How’s the head? Bit sensitive?’

‘Stop,’ he mumbled, raising a hand to rub his head. 

‘Sit down young man,’ said Molly sternly. ‘Do you want bacon or sausages? Or both?’

‘Erm… Bacon… Please.’ He collapsed clumsily into a chair, rubbing his eyes while he heard Arthur, George, Ron and Bill laughing at him. He looked up to squint blearily at Bill. ‘What are you doing here?’ 

‘Well, I read the paper this morning and thought I’d drop by, see how you were faring,’ said Bill pleasantly. George and Ron burst into peals of laughter again. 

‘What?’ asked Harry, befuddled. 

‘You’ve made quite a splash,’ said Molly disapprovingly. She dropped a newspaper in front of him, along with a bacon butty, and Harry picked it up, frowning. The headline and picture were blurry without his glasses, but that looked like… 

‘Fuck,’ he said quietly, and although he was sure he heard Molly scold him, it was drowned out by the others laughing. 

There was a picture of him, slumped against a wall, Ron valiantly trying to keep his head up, along with the sensitively worded headline ‘POTTER PLASTERED’, with a sub-heading of ‘does our heroic Harry face a new enemy - alcoholism?’

‘It’s not just the Prophet!’ said Molly irritably. ‘Witch Weekly got hold of the story too-’ she threw the glossy magazine down in front of him. ‘Only, their story wasn’t you throwing up in an alleyway, it was your public declarations of love for my daughter on the Knight Bus!’ 

‘What?’ said Harry, more sharply than anything he had managed that morning, seizing the magazine. He scanned the embarrassing, soppy, so-unlike-him quotes. ‘What, this is all wrong, I didn’t say this stuff-’

‘I’m sorry to say it, mate, but you definitely did,’ sniggered Ron. ‘For once, they’ve actually got their story spot on.’ 

‘Oooh, Ginny!’ mimicked George. ‘Oooh, I love her, guys, I really love her!’ 

‘If she leaves me I’d just die!’ chipped in Ron, falling in line with George’s whiny, high pitched impersonation of him. 

Harry’s face burned, he sank lower in his seat, head in his hands while the others roared with laughter. 

‘Stop it, all of you,’ said Molly firmly. ‘My goodness, I would think this should be a lesson enough, but all of you are to blame - what if you’d come across a Death Eater, how would you have defended yourselves? You were all so-’

‘It’s not war time anymore, Mum,’ said Ron. ‘We’re allowed a piss up now and then.’ 

‘Yeah,’ said George. ‘It’s a long standing British tradition to flirt with alcoholism.’ 

‘You think this is acceptable?’ Molly cried shrilly, jabbing the front cover of the Prophet. Her tone went right through Harry’s ringing head, and he winced again. ‘Don’t you pull that face,’ she said to him. ‘This was not at all how I wanted to find out about you and Ginny-’

‘You knew they were together,’ said Bill. ‘Everyone knew, they haven’t hidden it.’ 

‘Love is something different!’ she said. She looked back at Harry. ‘Unless this was just drunken ramblings?’ 

Harry would have been delighted to just drop dead right there and then. He contemplated bolting from the room, but didn’t think he had the strength. ‘No, it wasn’t,’ he said, extremely quietly. 

‘Good,’ said Molly, ignoring the boys melodramatic ‘aww’s.’ ‘Eat that bacon, I’ve got potions to help hangovers but they won’t work on an empty stomach.’ 

‘I don’t remember any of this,’ said Harry helplessly. No doubt both Hermione and Ginny would have already read this over their breakfast at Hogwarts… The whole school was probably talking about it...

‘Well,’ said George bracingly. ‘We know now, for next time - you can’t handle mixing your drinks.’ 

‘George! We’ve had words about that, you’re a bad influence-’

‘He had fun, Mum! Didn’t you Harry?’ 

‘Er…’ Harry looked down at his own hysterical giggling and lolling head in the photograph. ‘Well I’m not having fun now.’ 

‘Tomorrow’s chip paper, Harry,’ said Arthur reassuringly, an amused glint still in his eye. ‘Happens to the best of us, especially around this age. It’s just unfortunate all your youthful misdeeds end up being circulated nationwide.’ He hesitated. ‘I’d rather not have to fix any broken ankles next time you all - ah - what did you call it, Ron?’

‘Go out on the lash.’ 

‘Quite. Yes, try to avoid injuries next time, please.’

Now that he thought about it, his ankle did feel a bit tender. ‘Oh no…’ he said quietly. ‘Oh no… I got up on a table, didn’t I?’

‘And then fell quite hard,’ said Ron. 

Even Molly was laughing now. After a few days, Harry would be able to laugh about it, even defend himself as the teasing continued. Ginny’s witty letter of response became a treasured possession for many years... But for now, all he could do was force feed himself a bacon sandwich, and vaguely wish he had died of alcohol poisoning in his sleep.


	2. The Morning After

She didn’t look up at the sound of the fluttering of hundreds of feathers - the morning post streamed into the Great Hall as it did every morning, and given that she had received letters from her mother and Harry just two days before, she wasn’t expecting anything herself. 

However, it was Hermione’s gasp, loud enough to rise above the hum of conversation and hooting of owls, that made her look up. She wasn’t the only one - everyone on the Gryffindor table in hearing vicinity of Hermione had turned to look at her - some were already giggling. 

‘What?’ asked Ginny, worried something awful had happened as Hermione stared at her newspaper. Her eyes were wide, and her jaw was still dropped. Jimmy Peakes, who had been sitting next to her and lazily read over her shoulder, gagged on his toast.

'Oh my god…’ Hermione whispered. 'Harry!' 

'What?’ asked Ginny, panic rising. She leaned over the table to grab the newspaper as Hermione lowered it. 

_POTTER PLASTERED_

_Does our heroic Harry battle with alcoholism?_

And there was the photo. Harry sitting against a wall in some grotty alley, his legs out in front of him, having his head held up by Ron. 

Ginny gasped too, as did Demelza next to her, but Ginny found it far more amusing than Hermione’s horror-struck expression suggested it was. Someone shouted her name, and she turned to see Dean, Seamus and Parvati rise from their seats and hurry down the table to her. 

'Have you seen it?’ asked Seamus, grinning broadly. 'Did you get the paper?' 

'Of course we’ve seen it!’ shrieked Hermione. 'Oh my god…' 

'It’s not just the Prophet,’ exclaimed Parvati. 'Look!' 

She threw down Witch Weekly, which had managed to get a photo of what looked like Harry standing on a table, surrounded by a crowd. 

Ginny burst out laughing, along with the others. As she glanced up and down the table, she could she lots of huddled people reading papers over their friends shoulders - some laughing, some gasping and whispering. 

'Looks like they had fun,’ said Seamus. 'I knew I should have left like they did.’

'Oh, cheers,’ said Dean, in faux-offence. 'Bloody hell, look at him though, he must be paying for it today.’

'I bet it was my brothers,’ said Ginny. 'Fred and George always found it funny to target one particular person on a night out, it was usually Lee - looks like he and Ron decided Harry was the target.' 

'This is really bad,’ said Hermione, who looked positively alarmed at their amusement. 'Anything could have happened! What if someone had attacked him? I can’t believe he would be so stupid.' 

'Look at him!’ said Ginny, pointing to his hysterically giggling face. 'I think if I had that much alcohol I’d probably be in a corner crying or something, but he’s having the time of his life. What a plonker.' 

'Oh, it gets so much better!’ squealed Parvati suddenly. 'Read the article-’

She pushed the Witch Weekly magazine closer to Ginny, who read aloud. 

_HARRY UNLEASHES HIS FEELINGS AFTER DRUNKEN SOIREE_

_While many would expect Harry Potter to be at home, grieving over the 17th anniversary of the death of his parents, partygoers at the Leaky Cauldron’s Halloween Extravaganza were startled to find the war hero dancing with them to rock band Hung Horntails’ latest hits._

_Sources from the scene tell us that Potter and friends were seen downing pints, ordering shots, and playing drinking games, reaching a state of inebriation we know many of our readers would find shocking from young men commonly regarded as role models._

_'Some people cope with grief by numbing the pain with alcohol,’ said one witness. 'I did hear him mention childhood trauma. It’s a worry, especially given what night it was.'_

_Barman Olly Grundle confirmed that he served Potter and his friends 'a ridiculous amount’ of infamously strong shots known as basilisk eyes, which he claimed usually resulted in people crying in the toilets._

_Nevertheless, Potter kept up a strong mask of high spirits, eventually culminating in being carried out of the pub barely conscious, after falling from a table on which he was dancing._

_From there, one of our reporters happened to catch the same Knight Bus with her grandmother as Mr Potter, where he was heard opening up about his love life._

_'I got the impression he is usually very private, even with these close friends,’ said our reporter Joan Marchbanks. 'Naturally this is the mysterious and dignified Harry we all know and love, but what I saw on the Knight Bus was quite different.'_

_Barely able to walk or even stand, Potter visibly battled with nausea as he emotionally described to his friends how, in their shared grief, he and his girlfriend (reportedly Ginevra Weasley, currently a student at Hogwarts) had fallen in love over the summer. 'He even said he thought of her as he faced his death at the Battle of Hogwarts,’ reports Ms Marchbanks, 'and that he believed her to be the most beautiful girl he had ever met.'_

'Oh god, I can’t read this,’ laughed Ginny, descending into giggles.

'I will,’ said Demelza eagerly, taking the magazine and continuing. 

_Many of our readers will be shocked to learn that Potter then appeared to fall into unconsciousness, only being roused by his friends slapping his face and giving him water. 'It was hard to understand him from there as he was slurring so much,’ claims Ms Marchbanks, 'but he seemed to be claiming that he would “just curl up and die” if he lost her, and repeatedly shouting that he loved her. The conductor of the bus had to remind him several times that he was disturbing other customers.’_

_His friends are reported to have told him to 'shut up’ and called him a 'soft git’ multiple times during the conversation, eventually disembarking in Devon._

'And it just goes on to talk about how much he has stayed with your family in the past,’ said Demelza. She turned a page. 'Oh, and they have a profile of you, as well.' 

'Ginny,’ said Hermione sharply, 'you’ll get a lot of post about this. Is it all still being checked?' 

'Course it is,’ she said dismissively, waving a hand and looking back at the picture of Harry on the table. 'He must have been really smashed.' 

'Oh, it’ll all be wildly exaggerated,’ said Seamus. 'You can’t believe what the papers say about Harry. Or about anything for that matter.’

'I don’t know,’ said Ginny doubtfully. 'I can definitely picture Ron calling him a soft git.’

'Well did you?’ asked Hermione. 'Tell each other that you loved one another over the summer?' 

'Yeah, of course we did,’ said Ginny, looking a little bewildered. 'I’m sorry, are we all just skipping over the fact that he was dancing on a table?' 

'The Daily Prophet article says when he fell off he broke an ankle,’ Parvati chipped in. 

'Bloody hell, of course he did.' 

'Merlin, here we go,’ Seamus suddenly muttered quietly, and Ginny turned to see Romilda Vane approaching with an irritatingly simpering expression. 

'Ginny,’ she breathed, a concerned hand on her chest. 'I’m so sorry, you must be so worried about him.' 

'Not at all, I’m glad he’s having fun,’ said Ginny cheerfully. 'And it’s quite sweet to see what he really thinks about me, isn’t it?' 

Romilda gave a pitying sort of laugh. 'Yes, looks like he was really very drunk though.' 

Ginny chuckled too, squinting her eyes and shrugging. 'Oh, well you know what they say, drunk words are sober thoughts!' 

'Very drunk words! But then I suppose he has a lot of reason to drink,’ she said with a sad head tilt. 

'Oh, yes, plenty to celebrate! I can’t wait til I finish school and can join him!’

'Well, if either of you ever need help with any alcohol dependency issues, you know you can always come to me,’ said Romilda, her voice dripping with saccharine bitchiness. 

'I’ll bear that in mind if either of us ever run out of friends,’ said Ginny, equally sweetly. Romilda smiled and wrinkled her nose at her before walking away.

'Girls are savage,’ said Jimmy weakly. 'I hadn’t worked out the insults before the other one was throwing one back.' 

'Maybe it is cause for concern though,’ said Hermione worriedly, wringing her hands. 'I mean, that is an awful lot of-’

'Oh, please,’ said Seamus. 'Most lads our age are doing that once a week, minimum, some of the Muggles are even worse.’

'Yeah,’ said Dean. 'Have you never been in Shoreditch on a Friday night?' 

'If he starts drinking in the morning you can get worried.’

'They just love any angle that makes him look tragic,’ Ginny told her reassuringly. 'You know that - look, they play the orphan card in the first line. It’s nice he can be a normal for once. I’m going to tease him mercilessly about this though,’ she added. She glanced up at the teachers table - Hagrid was chuckling as he read it, while Professor McGonagall had pursed her lips. However Ginny could swear that, if only for a second, McGonagall turned away before a small smile appeared on her face. 

'I’m not against him having fun,’ Hermione was emphasising to Parvati, 'and it’s not like we didn’t all drink plenty over the summer. I just know how embarrassed he’ll be having all this in the paper-’

'He doesn’t usually get this bad then?' 

'Well…’ Hermione glanced at Ginny. 'No, he doesn’t get like this but he does get…’

'Soppy,’ said Ginny, nodding. 

'Yes. A bit more open than usual.’ She shook her head in exasperation. 'These silly boys. At least Ron was looking after him.’

'Well,’ said Ginny, looking down at the paper again. 'I’m very excited to find out he’ll dance on a table if you get him in a good enough mood. Something to aim for at Christmas, eh, Hermione?’

It was not until that evening that an idea came to her for a response. No doubt he was feeling a bit sorry for himself, so she didn’t want to tease him too much, but then again neither did she want to act with nagging concern like Hermione, or sickening sympathy like Romilda. There seemed to be only one way to walk that careful line. She picked up her quill, and, doing her best impersonation of a printed font, wrote:

_WEASLEY WASTED?_

_While many would expect Ginny Weasley to be at school, preparing for her NEWTs, partygoers at the Gryffindor Common Room’s Halloween Extravaganza were startled to find the incredibly attractive young witch dancing with them to the sound of her own exam-induced madness._

_Sources from the scene tell us that Weasley and friends were seen downing pints, ordering shots, and playing drinking games, reaching a state of inebriation we know many of our readers would find shocking from a young woman commonly regarded as the most sensible member of the Weasley family._

_'Some people cope with being the best member of the family by getting absolutely rat-arsed every night,’ said one witness. 'I did hear her mention that she was sick of Phlegm. It’s a worry, especially given how clever she is - what if having to read constant bullshit from the Daily Prophet melts her brain?’_

_Best friend Hermione Granger confirmed that she made Weasley and her friends do 'a ridiculous amount’ of infamously awful revision, which she claimed usually resulted in people crying in the toilets._

_Nevertheless, Weasley kept up a strong mask of high spirits, eventually culminating in being carried up to the dorm barely conscious, after having to drink significant quantities of firewhiskey to cope with listening to Romilda Vane prattle on._

_From there, one of our reporters happened to be in the same dorm room as Weasley, as she was heard opening up about her love life._

_’I got the impression she is usually very funny, especially with these close friends,’ said our reporter Demelza Robbins. 'Naturally this is the brilliant and accomplished Ginny we all know and love, at that’s the end of the sentence because she is always that great.’_

_Barely able to walk or even stand, Ginny visibly battled with nausea as she emotionally described to her friends how disappointed she was to miss out on dancing on tables with her boyfriend, some guy called Harry. 'She even said she thought of him as “an all right bloke, really”,’ reports Ms Robbins, 'and that she believed him to be “pretty sexy”.’_

'Hermione,’ she called. 'Do you still have that what-do-you-call-it you got for your birthday? The Polar Droid?' 

'Polaroid?’ said Hermione, from her bed. 'Yes, why?' 

'Help me with a little photo shoot,’ she said cheekily. 

It was testament to their friendship, really, that Hermione could be dragged away from her homework. But, with giggling enthusiasm, she helped Ginny transform various objects into empty glass bottles, scatter them on the floor of the bathroom, and be the Ron to her Harry as they recreated the photograph against the tiled wall.

'That’ll do,’ said Ginny, spello-taping the photo to the end of the letter. 

'Wait!’ said Hermione, and she carefully pointed her wand at the letter - a ring mark, as though someone had put a glass of wine on it, appeared in the top right corner. 'Perfect. He’ll love it.' 

Satisfied, Ginny borrowed Demelza’s owl to send it as soon as possible, hoping very much it would arrive with the morning post.


End file.
